


It Doesn't Ache When It's Not You

by RumRollins (GreyStained)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Oral Sex, Sad Jackie :(
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 20:57:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14481024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreyStained/pseuds/RumRollins
Summary: quillofchoice cooked up the tastiest of prompts for me:At a party, Jack got a blowjob from some twink, and Brock walked in on him. Turns out Jack was so drunk he was convinced the twink was Brock because they had identical hair.and I wanted to make it saaaaad





	It Doesn't Ache When It's Not You

Jack’s not even sure what the party’s for anymore. Birthday of a long-time friend? Large arbitrary get together? He was pretty sure they weren’t at someone’s home, not with the fully stocked and manned bar over in the corner. Maybe a hotel? Thinking too much about it made his head ache. It didn’t matter. All that really mattered was his mission to get absolutely shitfaced so he could forget the conversation on the car ride over here.

“…..this was never meant to be a thing, Jack,” the voice echoed cruelly in his head. “Just two guys, two buddies. Dunno what you expected.”

Nope. Not drunk enough. Jack did a poorly executed about face and made a beeline for the bar.

“Hey there.” A young voice directed toward him made him pause and turn around again. His gaze met green eyes, gaunt cheekbones, thin, smirking lips, slicked up raven hair. Jack frowned.

“Fuck off, don’ wanna talk to you.”

The man chuckled. “What? We haven’t said two words to each other all night, man.”

“S’on purpose,” Jack muttered bitterly. The wrong voice came from the stranger’s lips again.

“Aw, no fair, you’re not even giving me a chance? Lemme buy you a drink.”

A drink? Jack could agree with that. It was like he blinked and they were over by the bar, more whiskey in his hand and green eyes looking him up and down. Brock’s eyes weren’t always that color, were they? Maybe they weren’t meant for eachother, if he couldn’t remember the color of the man’s goddamn eyes.

“See? I’m not so bad.”

“Yeah you are,” Jack dismissed immediately, clumsily swirling his whiskey in the glass. “You’re an asshole.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“You fuckin’-“ he coughed a bit. Drinking and talking didn’t mix. Wiping his lips off on the back of his hand, Jack shook his head. “Fuckin’ broke my heart. Piece of shit asshole.”

Silence came from the other for a long beat, which only pissed Jack off. He turned to the man with a scowl. “You hear me? You fuckin’-“

“Can we go back to your room?”

Jack was silenced, stunned, but he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. “Y-Yeah, yeah. C’mon.”

———

Brock’s room was right across from his. He remembered the disappointment he felt when Brock told him this, and how it bled into that Conversation That He Will Not Think About. He sagged against the door as he inserted his key card in again and again, with no success. When he let out a frustrated noise, a soft hand— too soft, that wasn’t right— covered his.

“I got it, no worries.”

Warm hands were on his arms, guiding him in, sitting him in a chair. He felt soft lips against his own, fingers quickly opening his jeans, and then those same soft lips were running up and down his cock.

“Fuck, Brock,” he called, head falling back against the chair, a quiet “who?” landing on deaf ears. His damn head couldn’t stop spinning, but the wet heat enveloping his length was enough of a distraction.

“You’re so good at this, baby,” Jack cooed, threading his fingers through the dark, gelled hair. “Love your mouth.”

“Jack, what the FUCK.”

The mouth on his cock disappeared, and his head tilted down to see…. Brock, in the doorway? Did he move that fast? But Brock was also on his knees in front of him. Or he was until he was barreling past Other Brock without another word.

“One night, one fucking night, and you’re already a mess. Jesus, Jackie, I looked everywhere for you, the bartender said you had twelve drinks, and here you fuckin’ are-“

Jack didn’t bother processing the rest. All he could do was laugh, because he was right. Brock didn’t have green eyes.

“Motherfucker, are you laughing?”

Jack went quiet, blinked. A clumsy hand motioned to his crotch. “You gonna finish what you started?”

When the fist connected with his cheek, the skin was rough and perfect, just like he had hoped.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out rumrollins.tumblr.com for more dummies


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